Eritrea
by Penny Cork
Summary: Dealing with Auggie's trip to Africa. T for language.
1. Hectic Mornings

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs (or, alas, a 1967 Corvette).**_

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><p>The room was muggy and smelled of smoked wood in the dim light. Yawning, Auggie fumbled around the clutter of makeshift desks toward the back of the room. His feet padded on the packed earth floor, and he was careful not to stub his toes on any of the scattered stools and chairs. Even having spent only three weeks in this place he knew his way around comfortably enough to venture into such a minefield with no shoes on.<p>

He found his way to a burlap sack nailed to the back wall, and entered his makeshift office only to bash his toes against a crate masquerading as a stool. Growling profanities to the empty air, he slumped down on the offending piece of furniture wishing not for the first time that he could rely on a cup or three of coffee to clear the buzzing in his head and foot.

A rustle of the curtain made him look up, and he mustered a half-smile-half-grimace.

"Stub your poor toes again," Parker laughed down at him.

Auggie pulled a face in response and grumbled that it wasn't nice to tease the injured guy especially at five thirty in the morning.

"I can if he's also a complete idiot. Why do you walk around with no shoes on all the time," she teased.

"I told you: it's way too hot for shoes and I don't really see a point in getting all dressed up just to walk, like, ten feet from our house to the school." The real reason was he'd gotten tired of taking them off for the kids to play in, and had "lent" them to May, a particularly sweet eight year old, a few days ago. It was way too early, though, to explain all that to Parker, and she'd probably just tease him again anyway.

"Well I'm gonna set up the room. Shout if you need anything."

"Likewise," replied Auggie smiling as she turned away from the burlap curtain.

He allowed himself another moment to breathe in the dusty warmth of his office – well, his cupboard really – before leaning down to boot up the ancient machine that somebody had the nerve to call a computer. With a hiss of static and a groan of fans, the monster began its tortured process of booting up. He knew it was going to be at least ten minutes before he could do anything, so sighing resignedly, he went to find Parker in the front room. He'd given up wishing for his work computer a week ago.

_BOOM!_ There was a blinding flash, and Annie was thrown backwards, a scream ripping her throat. Almost as soon as she hit the ground, she was up again. She screamed out for him again, and tried to run forward to look for him, but – _BOOM!_

She sat up gasping in a wad of twisted sheets, and, mortified, realized that she'd woken for the third time in a row with Auggie's name on her lips. And not about anything good.

She flopped back on her pillows, and immediately sat back up as the knocking that had woken her came again. Groaning, she slid out of bed with the sinking feeling that the room was way too bright for a weekday. She made her way to the front of her sister's guest house, and opened the door to a flustered Danielle.

"Annie! What the hell're you doing? It's already eight," her sister screeched in greeting.

"Shit," Annie's hands flew to her rumpled hair, and she flung herself away from her sister towards the bathroom, "my alarm didn't go off! Thanks!" The last added as a hasty afterthought in the general direction of the front door.

"'Kay. I'm leaving some coffee on the side table," came Danielle's reply.

"You're a life-saver," Annie called back while simultaneously dragging a brush through her hair and pulling on a skirt.

For the millionth time, she reflected on how grateful she was for her practice in packing up and moving out fast – even if it was from her own home on her way to work. Within five minutes, she was pelting out the door sans makeup but firmly clutching her keys and coffee. She hesitated only a second before pulling open the door to Auggie's – _her _– car. She knew she was risking a major coffee spill, but, really, the seats needed to be broken in sometime, and it had already been almost three weeks. After all, it was sort of his fault that she was now late.

She'd lied to her sister when she told her the alarm hadn't gone off at all. Annie suspected it had more to do with the fact that she hadn't gotten to sleep until four thirty because she was too afraid to return to the minefield where Auggie had been dying for the past five nights.

A loud horn jerked her out of her thoughts as a large black SUV cut in front of her.

"Jackass," she hissed under her breath as some still-scalding coffee slopped onto her shirt. The problem with Auggie's otherwise-beautiful car was that it lacked cupholders for times exactly like this. Annie knew that she should probably start referring to the Corvette as her car. She'd even sold her old piece-of-crap Golf, so the thing _better _be hers. She just couldn't bring herself to admit that the car belonged to her because that meant Auggie wasn't coming back tomorrow. Loose a friend, gain a car. _But I don't want the car._

She swerved off the highway and fumbled around for her ID card to show the gatekeepers at Langley. As she approached the turn off, her fumbling became decidedly more frantic. Where was it? Shit. It wasn't there. No, no, no, no, no – it had to be there! Pulling over, she let her head fall onto the horn with a satisfying noise. She could conceivably get through the gate without the card. The guards knew her, and were familiar enough with her by now that they probably wouldn't bother with quibbles. But ahead of the gate stretched a long day of paperwork and meetings– all crap that would be nearly impossible to complete without the little plastic card. She could just sit here. She may even be able to fall asleep without dreaming. But she knew that wouldn't happen. Despite how little she wanted to go to work, it provided a welcome distraction from the less pleasant (and less flattering) pastime of missing Auggie.

So with a few choice words that did little to actually alleviate her frustration, she spun the car around and sped back towards home. She made the half-hour trip in eighteen minutes, a fact she smugly noted while barging in through the guest-house door. She found the card lying on the night stand (right next to her clock for christ sakes!), and eighteen minutes later still she was again turning up the ramp towards Langley. By this time, she was almost an hour late, and she cringed inwardly in anticipation of Joan's wrath.

Yep, if she died while Auggie was on his mad quest-of-love, she was so blaming him.

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><p><strong>AN: As you've probably figured out from the decidedly unoriginal title, these are my imaginings of what's going to go down in Eritrea. (More like what I hope happens that won't actually happen because the TV gods hate me.) Obviously, it's going to be a few chapters long - probably about four or five. I apologize if it seems to be moving really slowly as I don't write action that well. Anyway, this is more of a prologue of sorts, and the situations will be explained more in the following chapters. Oh, and I was going to think of a kickass title, but Eritrea is such a beautiful word, and I think it kind of sounds like some of the emotions both Annie and Auggie would be feeling. Though that's probably just me... Anyway, hope you enjoy. (Review...?)<strong>


	2. Things Left Behind

**_Do not own. :(_**

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><p>The computer was finally up, the village children whom Parker taught were beginning to arrive, and Auggie was waiting in the back room for his two students. Alone to his thoughts again, he shifted uneasily trying in vain to shake off the cold sweat that had lingered since he'd woken sometime before dawn. He should be happy. He was living with Parker (who had been more than overjoyed to see him), and he was making himself useful by teaching some of the adults how to operate a computer. He got to talk to Annie occasionally via satellite phone. It was the highlight of his week.<p>

And therein lay the problem. The highlight of his week should have been when Parker dropped into bed and snuggled next to him, exhausted after a long day of teaching English. Or when he played with the kids at lunchtime. Or when Adonay ecstatically high-fived him after finally learning how to set up a spreadsheet. It should not be a hurried conversation with someone thousands of miles away. Someone he'd basically abandoned in his rush to get over _here_.

There was the guilt again. He'd thought it would fade with time: there was nothing to be guilty about. Annie had told him this herself over a faulty connection the day after he arrived. The guilt actually seemed to get worse, though, as the days became weeks. He'd never missed her after a mission before, but now he'd missed three.

Huffing, he wished Adonay and Daniel would hurry up so he could drown his thoughts in teaching the basics of email and Excel. As if on cue, Adonay poked his head through the doorway alerting Auggie to his presence with the strong stench of the root tea he liked to call coffee.

"Good morning Oggie," he greeted in his rolling accent, "I have brought some coffee for you."

"Hey, thanks man," said Auggie reaching for the cup. He stopped right before taking it, though, pulling a face. "And when you say coffee you mean actual coffee, right? Not that stuff you gave me yesterday."

Adonay laughed, "I gave you coffee yesterday!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Auggie said, but took the cup as it touched his hand and smiled his thanks, motioning for Adonay to have a seat on another crate.

"Daniel has to help clean out the wells today," said Adonay as he pulled the crate over.

"No problem. He'll catch up tomorrow," replied Auggie, quashing the unease that had been clinging to him since dawn and throwing himself into the world of emails and spreadsheets.

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><p>At lunch time Auggie went to find Parker out in the yard. She hugged him, giggling as he pulled her down to sit next to him on the ground beside the makeshift school-hut. They sat in comfortable quiet listening to the kids playing. The sun baked their faces; the dust made their senses fuzzy.<p>

He was happy, he thought, and it wasn't a lie. He still hadn't quite figured out if he really came after Parker or after the memory of a lost past, but the morning's lesson had gone well and he was sitting in the sun with a beautiful girl in his arms. He really was content.

"Auggie," Parker giggled, breaking into his self-reassurances, "is May wearing your shoes?"

"I'll assume you already know the answer to that as it would be a bit difficult for me to tell you," Auggie chuckled.

"I was going more for the why of it all."

"You know how she is. When she pulls that puppydog face, no sane person could resist. And don't tell me I should be immune to that kind of trickery. Somehow, it even works on me."

"You're going soft, Captain Anderson," she giggled.

Auggie tried not to flinch. He'd told Parker he couldn't stand the title anymore, but she sometimes forgot.

"Guilty as charged," he covered, "she's just so adorable. She reminds me of Kat – of one of my neighbor's kids," he trailed off.

He had been about to mention Annie's niece, Katia, but that would be an admission that he was missing her much more than he tried to tell himself.

"Well, I should go round up the kids," said Parker, stretching herself out.

"Have fun," replied Auggie, distractedly kissing her cheek. As her footsteps receded, he frowned to himself. His unease from the morning had come back, but he wasn't sure why. Of course, he was guilty, but this was something else. A cold sweat on the back of his neck that he hadn't felt since Iraq, a feeling that fighting was getting dangerously close. He was being stupid, he knew – the village was fairly near the Ethiopian border, but still any disputes that broke out would peter out over twenty miles away. He tried to remember what had woken him up, but couldn't. Sighing in annoyance, he got up to go back to the computer. He had nothing to worry about besides the fact that he really missed good coffee.

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><p>The wreck of a computer finally shut off, and Auggie said goodbye to Adonay before heading for the hut he shared with Parker. He found his way to the bed across from the door and flopped down on it with an over-dramatic sigh.<p>

"Tough day at the office?" Parker teased.

"Even turning on that wreck of a computer is tough," said Auggie.

Laughing, Parker sat down next to him and patted his cheek. "Well, you'll be having a quiet evening tonight. That UN doctor who arrived just after you is running a clinic on AIDS prevention, and said he'd talk to me afterward. I may be teaching English right now, but it's medicine I'm really interested in."

There wasn't really a question in her voice: she was merely telling him she was leaving him alone. Again. Auggie sighed internally. Although Parker had been ecstatic when he showed up, she'd basically taken it in stride. If she found their situation as extraordinary as he did, she sure as hell didn't let on. Maybe it was because she had left nothing behind to come here. But he'd left a lot. And as he waved her out the door, it was all Auggie could think about.

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><p><strong>AN: I know not much happened, but there's more to come (at least on Auggie's end... for some reason I can't think of much to write for Annie.) I'm trying to get this done as fast as possible before school starts in earnest again, so I'm sorry if it turns out really crappy. Just FYI: they're in a village slightly west of Kulul, a city in Eritrea near the border with Ethiopia. There is a history of violence between Eritreans and Ethiopians over the still-disputed border, and many places are still heavily fortified. (See, I did my research!) So anyway... I hope you think the story is going Ok. (Reviews?)<strong>

*** Thank you so much to jade-angel5 for pointing out some stupid blunders. I think they're all fixed now. :) And if it seems like I'm stalking this site, it's probably because I am. I'm afraid that if I don't try to finish the story, I never will.**


	3. Deal With It

**_Disclaimer: I don't own them :(_**

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><p>She'd been late <em>again, <em>and Joan hadn't done anything yet. Annie was getting more and more worried. In fact, Joan had hardly glanced her way all week, and she was starting to wonder if her boss had just given up. Maybe I'll come back after lunch and all my stuff will have just disappeared, she mused flicking through tabs to find the next Russian newspaper she was supposed to inventory.

In the meantime, though, lunch sounded like an excellent idea. As she packed up, Annie realized that most of the DPD had already left. She'd been so immersed in her Russian newspapers she hadn't noticed them leaving. Since when had paperwork been absorbing she wondered, habitually glancing at Auggie's empty office. Right. Since that happened.

Annie's steps sounded unnaturally loud on the stone corridor as she made her way to the elevator. Just because she could, she concentrated on pacing a perfectly straight line down the center of the empty space.

God, she was tired. And worried about Danielle's marriage and Auggie and herself. Above all she was _bored._ The week after Auggie left had been a whirlwind. She had talked to him the minute his flight landed in Asmara, and he had asked her to arrange some of the things he hadn't had time to do. She was so overjoyed to speak to him that she had instantly agreed. Only later had it occurred to her that she could have refused and forced him to abandon his insane quest.

She had filled out crazy amounts of paperwork to get him extended leave for a "family emergency", and had begun the search for a temporary Tech Ops director (in the end, Stu had volunteered and nobody had said no). She'd cancelled the mail and the car service. She also privately went over to his apartment to take out the trash and clear the fridge. By the time she was done, she figured Auggie owed her about a million sandwiches.

It hit her as she pushed the dully glowing button that all she'd done since then was work, attempt sleep, and chat with Auggie on the phone. And although hearing his voice was the highlight of her week, it didn't feel like talking to Auggie. They both avoided real conversation for fear of treading into forbidden territory (which included work, Eritrea, Parker, Stockholm, or anything interesting for that matter). For nearly three weeks, they hadn't talked about much more than the weather or what Stu had for lunch. It really wasn't enough, but it was still what she looked forward to, and realizing that she was scheduled to call him at eleven that night made her smile.

She found Eric and Brianne, an agent and an analyst who worked near her, and flopped down across from them. She ended up just getting more coffee, and chatted for the half hour that was left of lunch. They were going to get drinks after work since it was a Friday, and Annie figured it wouldn't hurt to go out with them. Home was no fun as Dani and Michal tried to figure out what to do about their screwed-up marriage, and she didn't really want to sit by herself eating ice cream. She headed back a little less morose than before.

The newspapers didn't get any more interesting as the day went on, and Annie found she was starting to regret not eating anything at all. She had just started to shut everything down when she felt rather than heard someone behind her. She knew it was Joan without having to turn around. Her judgment day had come.

"Annie, I'd like to talk to you before you leave," said Joan, turning back toward her office. As usual, it was fairly clear that despite her neutral tone, Joan meant her comment as a command to follow.

Annie expected her to begin her lecture once they'd sorted out the various settling-in scufflings, but to her surprise Joan wilted back into her chair and sighed.

"I'm not quite sure how to begin what I need to say," she said, fixing Annie with her working-out-a-problem look.

"Joan, I can explain about this morning."

"This morning yes. What about last week? What about the Uruguay mission you refused? Annie, I've made patterns my living for nearly thirty years, and there's a very obvious and very dangerous pattern going on here."

Annie froze. She'd been expecting this. For the past three weeks she had been slipping, but she had rationalized her missed appointments and bungled paperwork as isolated events. "Please Joan, I just – "

"I'm worried, Annie. Not angry yet. You've done what I asked. You've been a solid agent. But that's all you've been. You have never turned down a mission before."

"I'm allowed to request reassignment if I feel I can't perform my job to the best of my ability," Annie scrambled. It was bullshit, and they both knew it.

Joan fixed her with a piercing stare. "Yet you never have. Until last week when I gave you a rookie's brush pass."

"I – "

"Just… let me talk please. You have legitimate excuses, and as I mentioned, you've been a solid agent. But Stockholm is nearly a month in the past, and I need Annie Walker back. How is your therapy going?"

That threw Annie off. Actually, the therapy program she'd been put on after shooting Kroft was going very well indeed. She still felt the recoil at random moments in the day, still couldn't watch action movies on TV, but she had to admit that therapists were unfairly given a bad name.

Joan sat back again, and if Annie hadn't known better, she'd have said her mouth twitched into a grim smile.

"I thought so. This has to do with our end of the mission."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean, Annie. A mission is more than just the agent I send in."

Annie did know. Without coming out and saying it, Joan was talking about Auggie. Which was completely unfair. She'd done three missions without Auggie! One of them had been pretty dangerous too. Deep down, though, she knew what Joan was talking about. She had trusted the handlers as she'd been taught on the Farm. That is, she'd used the silly code names, listened to the clinical instructions, and trusted the voice on the other end to get her in and get her out – no more and no less. In the process, she had ceased to be Annie Walker, the woman who dared break into a DC morgue, who chose the Ukraine over Poland because it was exactly what she was not supposed to do. And three days ago, after a particularly horrible Auggie-induced nightmare, she'd turned down a simple brush-pass. She was letting her personal life affect her work, the cardinal sin of a CIA agent.

"You know well that the most important part of this job is your handle on relationships. You either deal with them or you don't last for more than a few years. I hope you can deal because it would be pretty damn hard for the Agency to find another Annie Walker."

There was a beat or two of silence, and Annie wondered if she was supposed to say something, to cross the line and ask Joan how the hell she was supposed to find said Annie Walker again. But Joan decided for her, "That's all. See you tomorrow, Annie."

"Thank you," Annie replied. On the way out of the building she fought to repress a smile. Joan was concerned, and had _almost_ descended from her boss-tower to give Annie advice. It was time to snap out of whatever was going on. If she could learn to trust everything to Auggie, she could probably learn to trust another handler with almost as much. Joan's confidence was more than enough reason to at least try.

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><p><strong>AN: I don't know if anyone's still interested, but I figured I should finish this off. :) By the way, the story is going chronologically, but time may pass between chapters. For instance, about a week has passed between the last two chapters and this one. The next chapter will be right after this timewise, but there is an 8 hour time difference between here and Eritrea (thus, when Annie calls Auggie at eleven today, it will be six tomorrow where he is.)<strong>


	4. Running in Circles

Auggie woke with a start, and fumbling at his watch, found that it was five thirty. He thought he must have been having a nightmare because his heart was pounding, but he couldn't remember what it was. The uneasy prickling that had disappeared for a few days was back, and he decided that fresh air might calm him down. He was only just getting used to sharing the bed again, and found he rather preferred sleeping by himself.

He was impressed that he managed to feel his way outside without waking her, but he guessed that she had gotten in very late. They usually ate alone on Friday evenings, but there had been another AIDS talk that Piper insisted on going to. He hated the talks but not because they took Piper away until midnight. Hearing about the world's problems reminded him that he was stuck in a tiny village worrying about how the well-diggers were getting on. The last time he'd been, he lay awake almost all night convincing himself not to go home. He'd come here for himself – to find his girlfriend, to take a needed break from his work, to escape the doctors who couldn't quite find a solution_. _ Although self-gratification was an unfamiliar action since Iraq, he'd sworn that he wouldn't just go running back as soon as someone needed him. There were reminders, though, that the world had bigger problems than any he faced: the AIDS conferences; the continued reports of human-rights abuses that the villagers here took as second nature. Auggie secretly hated that all he was doing was teaching two 20 year olds how to use Excel. Parker insisted that his work here was as important as what the CIA did, but he felt like a glorified pawn. He preferred the control of missions, the tangible sense of achievement when another bad guy was locked away.

He slid down the cool wall, and dug his feet into the coarse grit. It still smelled of nighttime; the heat hadn't yet leached the earthen smell out of the walls of the house. His breathing had just begun to quiet when a very, very faint noise tickled the edge of his hearing. Instantly, he was awake. He didn't have to listen again to know that he'd just heard machine-gun fire. It wasn't so much the sound as the feeling that he still remembered from Iraq. He forced down the urge to crouch into fighting position, and struggled to remain calm. This was ridiculous. He hadn't been at war for four years, and here in the middle of a sleepy village with no weapon and absolutely no reason to even need one, his body automatically wanted to attack. Attack what? Bands of fighters at the border? Geez, he was losing it.

Try as he might, though, he couldn't calm down. He wanted – needed – to do something. This wasn't really even about the distant gunfire. That had just been a trigger for the itch that had been at the back of his mind for the past month. His unease was more than just missing Annie – he knew that in coming here he'd just been running away, something he had sworn he wouldn't do anymore after those first horrible months back from Iraq. The trouble was, if he left now, he'd just be running from something else. What was he going to do with Parker?

It was time to talk – really talk – with his best friend.


	5. I Miss You

Annie was trying desperately to escape the tall blonde man currently trying to take her "somewhere more comfortable". She would dump her beer on him, but then she'd be left without beer… She desperately looked around for Brianne, but she was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully it was almost ten, so she could get going without feeling like a cop-out. She studied the leering guy in front of her and ground her heel hard into his toes. She then deftly slipped out of his reach, sniggering as he hopped around spewing choice words in her general direction.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into Danielle's driveway, glad that no police cars had been prowling. She hadn't drunk that much, but knowing her luck they would have pulled her over and she would have been late to call Auggie. She quickly changed into her ratty house-clothes, and settled into the couch. She was just about to pick up the phone when it rang. Growling to herself she punched talk.

"Look, I don't want to buy whatever it is you have to sell, and it's very important that I call my friend in Africa RIGHT now, so please just go away," she grumbled into the mouthpiece.

The phone chuckled in a voice that was interestingly familiar. "So even if I was offering to sell you a lifetime supply of free alcohol you'd just want me to hang up?"

"Auggie! I was literally about to pick up the phone to call you. Also, you can't sell me a lifetime supply of free alcohol. It doesn't make sense."

"Don't be so picky. Free alcohol is free alcohol. Anyway, it's six in the morning here, and I've told you what they think is coffee."

"How did you even know what number to call?"

"You thought I would be your friend for over a year and not have memorized your phone numbers? What if there was an emergency? What kind of friend would I be?"

"A friend who didn't resemble a stalker? Anyway, how's your week been?"

"Interesting."

"That's…interesting. Care to elaborate?"

"Well for starters I no longer own any shoes."

"Hey, you can't blame me this time. Anyway, I gave them back when you nearly broke your toe on the barstool."

"Yeah, yeah. This time, though, I gave them away. There's this kid, May, who reminds me so much of Katia. She always wants piggyback rides. And she loves my shoes, so I gave them to her. Parker thinks I'm nuts."

"So do I, but I'm sure May thinks you're great."

"I also found out Parker hates jazz. I guess I was listening to that Mingus CD too much - I think she buried it or something. Anyway, she told me it was making a racket."

"What? First tequila and now jazz? Who _is_ she? Sorry. Freak-out over now. Hey, I beat up a pervert at the bar today. Oh, also I spilled coffee on your car."

"It's your car now anyway. If you want to treat it like crap I can't legally kill you."

She laughed, quiet for a minute as he told her more about the past week. It was so relieving to talk to him, but the best bit was just sitting listening to his voice. There was something different today, though, that she couldn't quite place.

"Hey Aug," she began in a lull in the conversation, "why'd you call me? It's always me who calls you."

He sighed on the other end of the phone. "I heard guns this morning."

"Oh. Wow. Are you OK?" She knew there was no real threat – the village was pretty well removed from the small border skirmishes that erupted – but she also knew that memories were sometimes a bigger threat for Auggie than real danger.

"Psh – I'm basically invincible you know," his weak attempt a levity sounded hollow, "I just…You know, I told Parker and she laughed. Like with the shoes. It was the first real fight we've had. Well, if you don't count her music rampage."

"Oh Auggie, I'm sorry. Are you…good now?"

He sighed, and she could tell he was running a hand through his hair. "I haven't actually talked to her yet. It was only an hour ago."

There were a few beats of silence, and Annie wondered what to say. She knew that a good friend would tell Auggie to sort things out with Parker, maybe advise him on a cheesy "I'm sorry" gesture. But she'd already proved herself a pretty crappy friend when she'd let him go gallivanting off on this insane adventure in the first place.

Auggie spoke before she could muster the courage to tell him to come home.

"I just needed to talk – really talk – to you first. We've basically been talking about the weather for the past month." She sagged back into the sofa, relieved beyond belief. It felt like some sort of gate had opened in the middle of her chest, and suddenly she began talking.

"My nose burned for a week after Stockholm. I kept feeling that guy's blood. I basically became Lady Macbeth until I went to see one of the therapists at work and I was so mad that I couldn't talk to you. I wasn't mad that you left, really, I understood, but I needed to talk. And I don't like using code names on missions and I miss you and creeps keep hitting on me at Allen's and I'm so _bored_."

"Wow. I caught Lady Macbeth and hitting on me, and now I have a really strange mental image. But, really, I miss you too."

"You didn't just call to tell me that, though, did you?"

"No. I miss my computer and I miss real coffee. I miss Stu and missions and feeling like I'm actually _doing_ something. I like Adonay and Daniel, but I'm not in control here and all I'm doing is getting in the way."

"I'm pretty sure they don't think so."

"That's what Parker says. She doesn't get – "

" – that you need the missions?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah…So what're you gonna do?"

"That's why I called you." She knew he was serious, and she panicked. She wanted to tell him to pack up immediately and come home, to forget Africa. She wanted to tell him that without his voice in her ear, she didn't trust any move she made on missions; that her heart sank every time she glanced at his empty office; that once a week wasn't nearly enough time to tell him all the stupid crazy things that happened in a day. Suddenly, though, she thought of Parker coming home to an empty house and a note that said something like _the truth is complicated. _Well, not that exactly, but something equally cryptic. So instead she said, "You should talk to Parker. Work it out. And when you're ready, you should come back."

"Since when did you start giving inspirational speeches?"

"Since you went on loan to the Peace Corps," she smiled into the phone.

"Well, I guess I'm gonna have to take your advice, Walker. We don't have the privilege of company shrinks in the Peace Corps, you know."

"And it's probably a good thing, too what with all the lost souls and bleeding hearts that tend to sign up."

"Huh. It was good to talk to you, Annie. I've missed it."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. See you Auggie."

"Bye Annie. I'll talk to you soon."

And for the first time in a month, she could literally _hear_ him smiling.

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><p><strong>AN: So I'm just going to plow on through to the end now. Thank you SO much to everyone who's reviewedalerted etc. It makes me happy! :) (As evidenced by the smiley face.)**


	6. Two Different Fights

**I don't own the characters or the show. Also, I dunno if I should mention this separately, but I keep making references to lines from the show etc. In this chapter, I even have Piper say something that Danielle said. I hope this doesn't constitute plagiarism: I mean it completely as a tribute! Finally, I don't own either _The Breakfast Club_ or _The Godfather_ (not even on DVD! What kind of person am I?).**

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><p>He didn't see Parker until that evening. Because it was Saturday, he didn't have to meet Adonay and Daniel, so he spent most of the day playing with the kids and planning what he was going to say to Parker. He hadn't made much progress by the time the kids had been called away for the evening.<p>

The truth was, he'd been thinking more about Annie. The guilt that he'd forced away had been coursing through him. He remembered the first time he'd killed someone better even than he remembered what he'd had for breakfast that morning. Long ago, he'd come to the conclusion that stealing another person's life was about the worst thing you could do – even if that person shared no such belief. Surprisingly, he wasn't concerned about the ethics. No, what bothered him were the emotions that plagued you for months and years afterwards. _I was so mad that I couldn't talk to you_. Despite pretending he hadn't heard her, he had understood everything Annie had said, and he wished more than anything that he could go back to the day he left and just talk to her for an hour. Who was he to decide that his problems took so much precedence over hers that he couldn't just slow down for one freaking hour?

Unlike before, though, the guilt was tempered with a sense of purpose. After a month of wringing his hands, he was ready to be Auggie again. He was going to work out whatever this thing with Parker was, he was going to take action, he was going to do _actual work_ again, he was going to – _goddamit!_ – he was going to move that stupid chair away from the door and find some proper shoes before all his toenails fell off.

Grumbling to himself, Auggie shunted the chair off to the right then promptly flopped down into it. He tried again to think of how he should begin his talk with Parker. It was weird that he couldn't work it out: he had always been good at talking problems through. Then again, there was a lot more at stake here than a failed relationship, and he didn't fancy the painful talk of Billy that would come with a discussion of his and Parker's situation. That's what had really started this, wasn't it? Of course, Parker was sharp and ambitious and funny and, he could tell, beautiful, but so were all the women he flirted with and inevitably let slip away. Since setting out for Eritrea, he'd kept asking himself what made him call his fling with Parker love, and every time he shied away from their shared past that reared up in answer. It sounded so morbid, but in the end, the thing that made him so afraid of letting Parker go was his dead army buddy. He had only just begun to remember that there were a hell of a lot of good memories in his past to balance the bad ones he'd tried so hard to forget. So when his link to that world had flown off to Africa, he'd followed her here and called it love. To a certain extent, he hadn't been lying. But he loved the wrong things about her: they were all things that were left over from a Parker he used to know. He didn't love her laugh or the way he could always recognize when she was around or the sound her heels made – woah, wait a second: Parker never wore heels! He viciously dug his toes into the dust wondering what shoes had to do with any of this.

He breathed in a lungful of dry, spicy air, and smoothed the dust back over the little craters his toes had made. This melancholy reflection was all well and good, but how the _hell_ was he going to talk to Parker about it? She didn't deserve to be told that he was basically hung up on a memory. Would she even want him to leave? He'd just been assuming that her feelings ran along sort of the same line as his did. What an ass he was! Five years! Tikrit would never be far enough away for him to fully recover, but he had hoped that at some point it would cease being his life and just become his past. He couldn't keep screwing up other peoples' lives because he was bad at dealing with his own problems.

He got up and paced outside, feeling the grit crunch in on itself as he stepped on it. The sun bathed the back of his neck and hands, and he marveled at how his brain still recognized the feeling of light even as his eyes refused to capture it. He concentrated on these small, physical things, and felt some of the tension spiral out of his muscles. He laid his fingertips on the gritty wall of the hut, and began circling the tiny space that had been his home for the past month and a half. He still didn't know what he would say to Parker, but obviously agonizing over it was not going to do him any good.

He'd done ten and a half circuits when a hand on his chest stopped him.

"Aug, how long have you been pacing?" Parker's soft voice sounded concerned, but was tinged with fond amusement. It made him smile: he might not love her, but he definitely did like her.

"I've done ten and a half laps. I might have made it to a mile if you hadn't come along."

"I'm guessing this pacing is about earlier and not some sudden fitness craze…"

He sucked in a breath. This was the perfect segue. Now or never; come on, August say something! Before he could, though, he was enveloped in one of Parker's light hugs. He squeezed her back quickly, but then pulled away.

"Hey Parker," he paused searching with all his senses for her eyes. If he was going to do this, he was at least going to look at her straight on.

He heard a breath as she let out the tiniest of sighs. "It's time isn't it? To talk? I didn't know how to begin, so I was waiting."

He cocked his head, and smiled a sad and surprised smile. "Am I that obvious?"

"Not at all. We're more alike than you give us credit for. Well, aside from the jazz. If I'm right, I've been wondering the same thing you have for the past three weeks."

He held his breath. What if she'd completely misread him? That would make this conversation even more painful than it was already going to be. Tentatively, he asked, "So tell me, miss psychic, what have I been wondering?" Damnit – did that sound like flirting? Did he have only one mode of communication all of a sudden?

There was a pause, and he guessed she was looking at him, trying as he was to find where to begin. So what she said next kind of threw him off. "Follow me, OK?"

He decided not to argue. He took her arm and let her lead him. Their steps moved from the packed earth of the road onto shifting dirt littered with stones and occasional scrub. It was sharp in places, but he liked the feeling that Parker was guiding him, steering him through the worst bits. They wound their way over what Auggie could only guess was scrubland until the air dampened and he could hear water swishing between banks. Parker slowed to a stop beside him, and they stood for a minute or two in the hypnotic thrall of the flowing water. The sun was pooling on the ground now: Auggie could feel it on his feet. He thought for one crazy moment that Parker had brought him to watch the sunset.

She suddenly spoke, "This is my favorite spot. The sunset is always spectacular." She _had _brought him to watch the sunset! Auggie laughed and squeezed Piper's hand.

"I come out here to think, and I realized I wanted you to see it how I do. We're facing a river that's a sort of brownish gray, and there's this really old and twisted tree on the other side. Did you know, Auggie, that ten years ago nobody came here because it smelled of death? They'd dump in bodies from the fighting, and the people in this village would retrieve them and give them a proper burial. It's clean enough now for the women to wash clothes here." She paused, and Auggie waited, letting her sort out what she needed to say. "Geez, listen to me – when I'm not sure what to say I get all morbidly poetic," she half-laughed, "I just – I dunno – I like this spot. Lots of people read the news and feel hopeless for places like Eritrea. They'd come here and see the harsh desert and the muddy water. I see a beautiful sunset and a river that continues to flow even after being clogged for 30 years with corpses. It's a land that's struggling, but at least it's still doing _something_. I want to do something too, you know?" She paused then added very quietly, "I'm done just sitting around being sad."

"Yeah, I do know." Auggie replied quietly. She was telling him why she'd come: she needed to help, to hope that what she was doing was the _something_ that the village needed.

"That's what makes you better than me. You know you're helping even when you're just teaching kids English. I have to be in control – see all the pieces moving and meshing and finally falling into place…" he trailed off, surprised that Parker's confused musings had prompted this insight that he himself hadn't realized until now.

"Not better," she replied quietly, "different. You need action; I need calm. We might be fighting different battles, Aug, but they're both the right battles to fight."

He smiled over at her, "Thanks for that. Sometimes I'm not sure myself."

"But at the end of the day, you know exactly why you do what you do. It's why you're leaving." She said it calmly, almost with relief. Auggie had to marvel for a second: she'd just managed in three minutes to explain to him what he hadn't been able to figure out in three weeks.

"You know, I had this whole thing about Billy prepared. I agonized about it all day," he mused.

Parker laughed sadly, "Oh sure, he's in there as well somewhere. He always will be, won't he?"

"I guess that with us he will be, yeah." They stood quietly as the last of the sun dribbled into the river and was washed away. Something occurred to Auggie suddenly that made his heart lift for the first time since coming out to the river.

"Hey, you said always! Does this mean we're going to do the whole we-can-still-be-friends thing? You know, that rarely works out."

Parker laughed. "Dude, you have the best movie collection I've ever seen. When I get back, I'm coming over whether you like it or not." By now they'd begun to walk back, and she pulled him out of the way of a scrub bush.

"Oh, well, if you just use me for movies, it'll probably be okay." He smiled, deciding that this was how breakups should always work. He actually felt better around Parker than he had for the entire six weeks he'd been here.

She paused, and for some reason Auggie knew the next thing out of her mouth was going to cause him trouble. "Though I guess I'll have to call well in advance if I ever want to see _The Breakfast Club_. Something tells me Annie Walker is more into things like _The Godfather_."

Auggie looked over at her weirdly. "What's Annie got to do with this? How do you even know if she uses me for movies too?"

They stopped beside the hut door, and Piper said with a smirk in her voice, "Aug, I might not be a spy like you, but your voice changes a little when you talk to her on that long-distance phone of yours."

Auggie frowned, "Sure it does. I always have to yell into that thing because the reception's so bad." If they'd been cartoon characters, he just knew that his avatar would be making shifty eyes right around now.

Parker evidently decided to have mercy on his frazzled brain because she let it slide, instead saying, "So what're you going to do now?"

"I dunno," Auggie said. He hadn't really planned beyond The Talk, and it turned out that Parker had totally beaten him to that. "I mean, I can't just leave Adonay and Daniel half way through their course…"

"If you can stand another month here, I know it would mean the world to them," she sounded hopeful, and Auggie knew it was for the boys not for some weird delusion of their continuing relationship. He was going to agree, but stopped short.

"I guess I can probably stay one more month, but I should check in with Joan first. You know, I've been gone a while…"

"Sure, sure. Go call Annie. Make sure she's not going to die without you. I'm going to go lock up the school," Piper said, turning away with a smile in her voice.

Auggie just stood there. Seriously, was she really a psychic? He shook his head. There wasn't even a way he could call Joan if he wanted to. He hadn't memorized her number. Feeling slightly confused but mostly happier than he had in a while, Auggie made his way inside to call Annie for the second time that day.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Wow! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I left everyone in the lurch for a long time there. I wasn't angry, sad, discouraged, or dead: I'm just really really lazy. So I hope this chapter is worth it... I can never tell because all my chapters are un-beta'ed. If you catch me calling Parker Piper, please let me know. For some reason I kept typing Piper (irony I know!). Do Parker's comments make sense? I tried, but sometimes stuff that makes sense to me just looks like gibberish to other people. Do you think I was too harsh on Parker (with the whole Billy thing)? Too harsh on Auggie (with his whole I-need-to-sort-out-my-problems)? Don't worry! That's not at all what I think about him: it's what HE thinks. Finally, I apologize for the lack of conflict... I tried at first, but I've just accepted the fact that I can't stand people being mad in real life and so cannot create anger in the fictitious world no matter how hard I try. _

_Also: THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! THEY MAKE ME SMILE INSIDE and also outside! And to iwatchiwonder: after much pondering, I've BS'd an excuse as to why Auggie hates the coffee: although Eritrea produces top-quality coffee for export, the village where they live is too poor to actually hang on to any of it and has to make do with whatever it is they give him._


	7. As it Happened

**OH NO! I am sosososo sorry to anyone who still has the patience to read this... I really don't want to admit this, but I think it's been over a month since I updated. Shoot. Sorry. I'm never attempting multiple chapters again.**

**Anyway, if you still want to read, here it is. I think there'll be two more chapters both fairly short. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Annie, Auggie, or a pair of stiletto heels. This is un-beta'ed, and I got a bit tired of editing it after a while. **

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><p>As it happened, Auggie caught Annie at the one time she ever turned her phone off: on a plane. She found the call when she landed in Philadelphia, but by then it was way too late in Eritrea and she was way too nervous about the hours ahead to even consider calling back. If all went according to plan, she would be able to call him back soon enough. Right. <em>If.<em>

The mission was a documents exchange that eerily recalled Annie's very first with the Agency. This time, though, they were going old-school: paper packages, stuffy code names, and even a decidedly miserable wait involving rain and a lamp post.

This was where Annie found herself standing five hours after her plane touched down. Its desperate glow did little to fend off the gloom of Philadelphia's atrocious weather. Annie glanced at her watch for about the hundredth time, and silently thanked the universe that she was at least holding an umbrella instead of wearing a great coat and top hat.

She kept reminding herself that everything from her contact's appearance to her return flight the next morning was coordinated to a tee; even that she was essentially redundant (as Joan had bluntly told her once). But, as with every mission, she found that her shoulders refused to relax. She wouldn't admit it – especially after Joan's warning a week ago – but the secured phone calls did nothing to calm her. It was always the wrong voice that picked up, and the clipped dialogue was sadly lacking in cheerful banter.

Annie's nerves were raw, then, as she stood under her appointed lamp post with a slightly soggy package of money. Shifting uneasily, she repositioned the umbrella so that more shadow fell on her face. It would do nothing to protect her from potential attackers, but for some instinctive reason she felt better with the gloom around her. _Why were they ordered to meet in such an open location?_

She saw him before he saw her. He emerged from around the corner on the far side of the street, hardly bothering to look before crossing over. His white sneakers glowed in the sheen of rain and orange streetlamp, and clashed mightily with the pinstriped suit that hung awkwardly off his furtive frame. Looking closely, Annie saw the flash of the reading glasses that were slipped into his breast pocket: her contact's appearance, at least, was fully intact.

He caught sight of her, and his shuffling steps sped up slightly. Annie winced internally at how obvious the man was. He may have supplied weapons to a Mexican drug lord for twenty years, but he certainly hadn't mastered subtlety or, apparently, discretion in all that time. Before he was even three feet from her, he pulled out a brown leather pocketbook from inside his jacket.

Annie nervously scanned the street again as he leaned on the lamp post next to her.

"Excuse me, señorita, could you give me directions to the nearest train station?"

Annie smiled politely. "No – I'm sorry. I'm just visiting myself, you see. I do have a map, that I don't need anymore though."

The man raised a bushy eyebrow. "If you got it from the city, I'll do without. I can never understand tourist maps."

"Actually, I brought this one with me from home," Annie replied, and held the envelope of money out slightly.

The scripted exchange done, the man visibly relaxed. He cracked a smile that flew from his face the moment he attempted it, and said that he was sure he hadn't been followed.

"Well then, Mr. Scania, I'm pleased to extend you the CIA's thanks along with some compensation for your troubles," said Annie, handing him the money as she shoved the brown notebook into her purse.

In a more urgent tone, she directed him back to his safe house along a different route than he had arrived from, and with one last reassuring smile, she turned down an alley that would take her directly to her hotel's entrance. Her frayed nerves twitched with every echoing footfall, and she ducked into a doorway twice – once for a stray cat and once for someone's discarded Doritos bag.

As her hotel door clicked shut behind her, Annie sank to the floor. She was surprised at the ease with which she had pulled off the swap, and she let out an amused groan at the irony. A straightforward assignment was _not _supposed to be surprising.

Still, even the powers that usually made her life difficult deserved a break once in a while. She guessed everyone did. Except her, of course.

It was only 8:30, but her six hours on high-alert had left Annie drained. She decided to secure her room and sleep for a few hours before calling Auggie back. She bolted the door, and stowed away every bit of luggage in the shower. (She figured it was the best hiding place the tiny hotel room had to offer.) Setting her alarm for eleven, she finally crawled into bed without bothering to undress.

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><p>Her head had only just hit the pillow when an annoying whining <em>thing<em> went off by her ear. Annie grunted something that would've been rude had she been more awake, and hit the annoying device as hard as her groggy brain allowed, hoping to silence it forever.

She would've fallen asleep again, but she remembered suddenly why she'd been so rudely awakened. She threw back the covers, and staggered as her feet hit solid ground. She had a very important phone call to make. Rolling her eyes, she reached for her dully glowing cell phone. Only for Auggie.

There was a knock on the door just as Annie pressed the call button. A few seconds later, the rattling started. So it's finally happened, Annie thought. The hiccup that plagued her every mission had made its appearance. _Typical._ Her reflexive reaction was actually more tired amusement than adrenaline. But then the rattling intensified, and Annie headed for the bathroom as quickly and quietly as she could.

Auggie picked up just as Annie closed the bathroom door. At his tinny _Hello?,_ Annie jumped. She had almost forgotten that she was still holding her phone.

"Hello?" Auggie's voice tried again.

"Hey. Auggie. I was calling you back, but something's come up," Annie replied as quietly as possible, listening intently for the front door. She was screwed and she knew it, but her mind still raced through any escape routes that could possibly present themselves.

"Annie? What's going on? Why are you whispering?" Auggie's voice was tinged with anxiety.

There was a crash. They were in. "Aug, they're in. I'm trapped," Annie said, momentarily forgetting that Auggie had no idea what she was talking about. He was in an African village not at his desk trying his best to get her home alive.

"OK. Just relax. Tell me what's going on, and we can work this out together." Auggie seemed to react instinctively to her panic as his baritone automatically became firm and reassuring. Annie allowed herself half a second to melt into the calm she'd been missing for what seemed like forever before outlining the situation for him.

"Whoever it is is in the room now. I can hear him searching it, but he won't find anything." As she murmured into the phone, Annie slid the brown notebook out of her bag and into the waistband of her jeans. The last thing she wanted was to loose her intel so close to the end.

"Just one?"

Annie listened for another few seconds. "Yep. Definitely only one in the room, but there may be more outside. It's only gonna be another few seconds before he finds the bathroom, though, and there's not way out of here."

"Well then, Walker, I seriously hope all my bloody noses training you have been worth it."

Annie allowed herself a breath of laughter before she heard footsteps approaching the door that she so tensely crouched behind.

"He's coming, Aug. I'm gonna have to hang up now."

She could almost hear him tense on the other end of the line. "Don't let me down, Walker. I'm still waiting for a ride in your new car. I hear it's one of the best."

Annie would've replied, but she was already moving to stand by the door jamb, stiletto heel firmly in hand.

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><p>She didn't wait for the guy to fully open the door before wrenching it open with one bare foot and jamming the heel into what she hoped was a head. She'd taken whoever-it-was by surprise, but in the next second her makeshift weapon was being wrenched out of her hand and she was being forced backwards into the rounded edge of the sink. A kick, a punch, pain, flailing, soap, autopilot, and Annie had her attacker barely pinned to the edge of the tub.<p>

She blindly ripped the shower curtain with one hand, hoping to bring down the pole. There was a clatter and a scuffling of the curtain and two sickening blows that jarred her arms.

Then there was stillness, and Annie stood panting rubbing sticky soap off her palms.

She didn't – couldn't – pause to regain her breath. She checked that the notebook was still in place, scooped her phone off the floor, and made for the exit fully prepared for another attack.

None came. So whoever-it-was had been operating alone. Another agent, then? For whom? Annie's mind was beginning to whirl again as the adrenaline-induced clarity began to wear off. She wished she'd paused long enough to at least see what the guy looked like.

All she knew now was that he was short, very stocky, and led with his left – hard enough to leave a nasty, nasty bruise. Annie winced.

She had the foresight to check out of the hotel, and just before leaving, she also called the police. She was too tired to deal with the unconscious guy herself.

It was too risky to go back to the hotel room now anyway. Her emergency contact was on the other side of the city, and no shoes meant that _that_ option was closed for the time being. Maybe ever. Annie didn't really fancy a trip across Philly at night without a gun never mind other essentials. So what _did _she have? The notebook. Good. Money. Even better. Clothes. Always a great bonus. And her cell phone.

Annie grinned. She may be stranded in Philly at midnight in the rain with nothing but a brown notebook, but at least she had a friend on the other end of a trans-atlantic line waiting for her call. Before she set out in search shelter or food or even shoes, she sat down on a slippery wall to call Auggie back for the second time that night. As the rain soaked through her jeans, she realized that the only thing that had kept her going through the fight and the three block flight from it were Auggie's parting words.

She really hadn't wanted to die before letting him see (or rather feel) how fast her new car could go when it was taken off the risers he used to keep it on.

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><p><strong>OK so it was kind of long, but that still doesn't make up for the wait. Can you find it in your heart to review still? If you catch any mistakes or awkward places, please tell me!<strong>


	8. No More Waiting

**Wow, this is short... **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or CA! Un-beta'ed.**

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><p>The silent minutes dragged on. He couldn't <em>possibly<em> get more worried. He was already pacing the tiny room, gripping the phone so hard he was surprised it didn't break, holding himself as tensely as possible so that he didn't fly apart in a whoosh of nervous energy.

Oh, but he did get more worried. As five minutes turned into ten and ten into eleven and eleven into…

At that point he just sat down. No chair – it took too much effort to find one. He just sat with his back to what he thought was the bed and his legs sprawled uncomfortably across the dusty floor. He gave up checking his watch for fear that it would break or that time would just grind to a halt.

He was completely useless. In his month and a half here, Auggie hadn't felt it more acutely. No computer, no contacts, no way to help. He just had to sit and wait and wait and hope that his operative – his _best friend_ – could get out alive.

She would. He knew that. But sitting in the silence with only his imagination was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Damn. He wished his imagination wasn't so good.

The phone rang twice before he answered it because he jumped so violently on the first ring. By that time, Auggie had made his decision. There would be no more waiting.


End file.
